


the morning after (the night before)

by Mildredo



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 08:43:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14493177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildredo/pseuds/Mildredo
Summary: “How’s your head?” he asks quietly.“Hurts.”“Well, a hangover and a head injury will do that.”5x19 reaction fic.





	the morning after (the night before)

Amy can count on one hand the times during the course of their relationship that Jake has woken up before her. Even on her days off, she’s hardwired to wake at the exact moment her first alarm usually sounds - Jake usually sleeps through the first three alarms on work days, and when he’s not working he could sleep all day if Amy let him. So waking up to Jake’s side of the bed empty and the clock reading 10:34 is extremely unusual. As is the discordant marching band stomping around inside Amy’s brain.

She can’t remember much about last night right now, but she remembers drinking. A lot of drinking.

She tugs the sheets over her head, because the curtains might be closed but there’s still far too much brightness in the dark bedroom, but before she can close her eyes tight against the world outside she’s interrupted by a gentle dip in the mattress. She pokes her head out of her cocoon to see Jake looking unfairly healthy for someone who was also wasted by the end of the night, still in his soft grey pajamas and armed with a tray of supplies.

“How’s your head?” he asks quietly.

“Hurts.”

“Well, a hangover and a head injury will do that.”

And that’s how Amy remembers falling off the bar and cracking her head open. She reaches a hand up to her forehead to feel for the bandage, just to be sure, and the cut underneath aches at the light pressure of her fingertips.

“Oh, god,” she groans, her hand slipping to cover her eyes. Jake’s fingers wrap around the sides of her hand, pulling it away from her face. He presses a kiss to her knuckle before handing her a hot mug from the tray.

“Coffee,” he says. “Extra strong. Plus aspirin and dry toast.” He passes her the pill bottle and the small plate, both of which Amy places on the nightstand while she takes a sip of coffee. It really  _ is _ extra strong, and the warmth and the caffeine promise to make things feel better soon.

“Thank you,” Amy says, turning her mouth into what she hopes is a smile.

“And,” Jake continues. “I’m going to change that dressing and check the wound. Make sure you don’t need stitches.”

Amy nods slowly, and swallows a dose of aspirin before letting Jake near her forehead. He works carefully to peel away the bandage and dips a washcloth into a cup of warm water before gently wiping away the dried blood. While he pats her skin dry with a soft towel, Amy looks down at Jake’s well-organized tray and she huffs a quiet laugh. He’s pulled a real Santiago - so well prepared, with his warm water and two cloths and tube of Neosporin.

“I think we’re good,” Jake says. “It’s not as bad as it looked. Heads just bleed a ton, right?”

“Right,” Amy says. “Something to do with the blood vessels.”

Jake dabs a little of the ointment onto the cut with his fingertip, making Amy wince at the direct contact, then he carefully covers it with a clean bandage and ghosts his lips over the top, stroking a hand through Amy’s hair at the same time.

“I love you,” Amy whispers. She leans into Jake, tucking her aching head against his chest. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, moving the now mostly empty tray out of the way with the other before resting it across her waist. “You’re the best almost-husband ever.”

“It’s easy when you’ve got the best almost-wife ever. Just let me know when you’re feeling better, because I’ve already found like eight new ways to make fun of you for Man Bun.”

And that’s how Amy remembers Constantine, and why she was standing on the bar in the first place.

She winces again, this time not from physical pain so much as mental, and gently smacks her palm against Jake’s stomach, rapidly rising and falling as he laughs, before curling tighter against his vibrating chest.

“I don’t think I’m going to feel better for a very long time.”

“S’alright,” Jake says, kissing the top of Amy’s head through his grin. “I can wait. You’re stuck with me forever, remember?”

“God help me,” Amy mumbles, a smile betraying her as she tilts her chin enough that she can see Jake’s face. Close up he’s more obviously feeling the effects of his bachelor party - he looks tired, a little pale, and his eyes are tinged red, but he’s beaming as he looks down at her in her disheveled, hungover state and he looks as though he couldn’t be more in love with her if he tried.

She knows the feeling.


End file.
